Chapter 5: Behind His Eyes

Ella's Pov

“Miss Darius, a word.”

The voice struck like a whip. Books slid from my hands, the sound echoing through the quiet library, but I couldn’t make my body bend to pick them up. Every muscle had gone stiff, my heart punching against my ribs.

I turned, and there he was, Professor Alex. His frame filled the doorway, broad shoulders cutting a shadow against the lantern light behind him. His eyes were the worst part: sharp, unblinking, steady as a hunter’s.

“Yes, Professor?” I managed, but my voice sounded faint, like it didn’t belong to me.

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze flicked to the fallen books at my feet, then back to me, as if measuring the tremor in my fingers. Finally, his lips pressed into something that might have been the ghost of a smile. “Outside. Now.”

There was no room for refusal. I bent down, gathered the books with clumsy fingers, and stacked them neatly just to buy myself a few breaths. Then I followed him out into the hallway.

The corridor was empty, and the silence there was heavier than the library’s. My shoes clicked softly against the stone floor, each sound bouncing too loudly in the stillness. I wanted to stop, to turn back, to vanish into the shelves where no one could find me. But Alex walked ahead with steady, purposeful strides, and I was caught in his pull like a thread wound too tight.

He stopped without warning, and I nearly walked into him. The sharpness of his turn forced me back a step, my back brushing the cold wall.

“You’ve been… different.” His words weren’t a question. They were an accusation.

I swallowed hard. “Different how?”

He tilted his head, studying me. “The Lyra Darius I’ve heard about was wild. Arrogant. Untouchable. She wore her cruelty like a crown.” His eyes dropped to mine, lingering too long, too searching. “But you…” His gaze swept lower, catching the way I gripped my skirts too tightly. “…you flinch. You lower your eyes when you think no one is watching. You walk like someone who’s waiting for punishment.”

My throat went dry. “People change.”

“Not like that.”

The space between us seemed to shrink. He didn’t touch me, but he didn’t need to. His presence pressed against me, hot, suffocating, unyielding.

“Maybe the stories you heard aren’t true,” I said quickly, forcing steel into my tone. “Maybe you built your opinion of me on lies and gossip.”

His jaw tightened. His eyes flickered just for a second, softening with doubt, as if some small part of him wanted to believe me. But then the softness vanished, replaced with something harder, sharper.

“You can lie to the others,” he murmured, leaning in close enough that I felt the warmth of his breath on my cheek, “but you can’t lie to me.”

The words cut deeper than I wanted them to. My chest constricted, panic clawing its way up my throat. I knew my mask had cracked. He’d seen it. Maybe only a sliver, but enough to know something was wrong.

I forced myself to hold his stare, even though it burned. “If you’re finished, Professor,” I whispered, “I’d like to return to my studies.”

For a moment, he didn’t move. The silence between us was so thick I thought I might suffocate on it. Then, as though deciding something only he understood, he stepped back.

“Class dismissed, Miss Darius.” His tone was flat again, controlled, but his last words coiled tight around my ribs. “We’ll continue this conversation soon.”

He turned and walked away, his footsteps slow, steady, deliberate. As though he had all the time in the world to unravel me.

The moment he vanished around the corner, I let out a shaky breath and slid down the wall. My legs wouldn’t hold me. My hands trembled as I pressed them hard against my chest, desperate to keep the pieces of myself from scattering.

He knows. Not everything but enough. And if he keeps looking at me like that, if he keeps pushing, I’ll break. I’ll ruin everything.

Tears stung my eyes, spilling before I could stop them. I scrubbed them away furiously with the back of my hand, whispering, “Don’t cry. Don’t let him win. Don’t let anyone see you fall apart.”

I stumbled into an empty classroom nearby, shutting the door quietly behind me. The air smelled of chalk and ink, faintly of dust. I sank into a chair, my fingers digging into the wood of the desk until they hurt.

I hated this. Hated the lie. Hated Lyra for pushing me into this trap while she stayed free. I was an omega meant to be invisible, silent, safe. Instead, I was wearing a face that didn’t belong to me, hunted by questions I couldn’t answer.

The thought of Alex’s eyes—burning, searching made my stomach twist. He wasn’t like the others. The other teachers lectured, corrected, dismissed. But Alex looked at me as if he could see every crack, every secret, every truth I wanted to bury.

The longer I sat there, the harder it was to breathe. I pressed my forehead to the cool desk and whispered, “Just hold it together. Just one more day. One more week. Don’t let him see.”

But even as I said it, I knew Alex already saw too much.

I tried to steady myself before heading back to the dorms, wiping my face until no trace of tears remained. The last thing I needed was someone asking questions. But as I rounded the corner into the courtyard, I stopped dead.

Lyra.

She lounged on the stone bench, the moonlight silvering her hair, her posture all elegance and defiance. She wasn’t supposed to be here, Yet there she was, as though she owned the place.

“You look pale,” she said lazily, her eyes glinting with cruel amusement. “What’s wrong, little shadow? Did the big bad Alpha scare you?”

My fists clenched at my sides. “You can’t be here. If someone sees us…”

“They won’t,” she interrupted, tilting her head with a smirk. “Relax. No one pays attention after dark. And besides, I wanted to see how my little impersonator is doing. Looks like you’re not doing very well.”

Her laughter cut through me like glass. I wanted to scream at her, to tell her she had no idea what it was like to stand under Alex’s gaze, to feel his suspicion burn into my skin. But I couldn’t. I was bound to her game, trapped in her lie.

“You don’t understand,” I whispered. “He knows something’s wrong. He’s watching me.”

Lyra’s smirk widened. “Good. Let him watch. The longer you survive, the more you prove you’re useful. And if you break?” She shrugged, her voice cold. “Then you were never meant to wear my mask.”

She rose gracefully and walked past me, her perfume lingering in the night air. Her words clung tighter than chains.

I stood there, staring after her, my chest tigh

t with fear. Alex was closing in. Lyra didn’t care. And I was running out of time.